The Great Pretender
by ShallowShadows
Summary: Ever since that American had started working there, he made everyone happy. Everyone but Arthur. AU, hinted UK/US


A/N: Whoa, it's been so long since I've submitted here! This story is a one-shot from Sweethearts Week 2012 back in February. I kind of like how this one turned out, especially after a little editing, so I wanted to share it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, nor any of the characters from it. I don't make money off of this story.

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**The Great Pretender**

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Arthur stared at the clock with an agitated expression. He had only just started with his paperwork and he already wanted to bash his head off his desk. Normally he loved his job, after all, it was a former hobby that he adored, but today… today he was pissed off. And when he was pissed off, he never got anything done. Green eyes shifted to look at something other than the slowly ticking clock and they just so happened to land on the very object of the Briton's aggravation.

Screw that damn American Alfred Jones. Why was he even here? Arthur could remember a time when the office was quiet and down to business, but ever since that twat got hired to do _whatever_ it was he does, there was nothing but yelling, goofing off, and general 'chaos.' Workers would gather around him and shower him in unneeded attention. He'd soak it up with that sunshine smile of his and then he'd flick on some of the latest rubbish music out of America. Everyone danced. They had fun. When the boss would come to check-in on everyone, they'd all be back at their stations and the music was off.

The most messed up part wasn't even that. Though the boss knew what was going on despite the employees trying to hide it, he didn't seem to care because apparently, for reasons unknown to Arthur, production was up. When production was up their boss was happier than a kid at Halloween. Their production had never been so high, their boss was _never_ this happy. It was all Alfred's fault. He made everyone happy. Well, everyone except for Arthur. God, it irked the Briton that Alfred could do that to people.

Now why exactly did Arthur happen to be the only person in the entire office that Alfred couldn't cheer up? He just didn't like the guy. It wasn't really Alfred's fault or anything. Arthur had been a scrooge for as long as he could remember, having been screwed over more than enough times that he wanted nothing to do with most people. People like Alfred, who could take things in stride and be happy even when things were horrible, really pissed Arthur off.

When Arthur came back into reality, he found himself staring directly into a pair of bright blue eyes. He jumped and knocked his hot tea off his desk right onto his lap. "FUCK!" he screamed as he shot up, knocking his chair over in the process.

Laughter. That damn git was _laughing_ at him! How dare he laugh at his pain? "Haha, dude, you spilt your tea all over yourself. Are you okay?" That smile. It was so annoying.

"_Piss off_!" That was it. He'd had it. He didn't care if he sounded rude or not.

Alfred's face quickly shifted to a more concerned one, though it also looked like he was upset for being snapped at. "Do you want me to get you a towel, man?"

"I _said_ piss off." Alfred just stared him, eyebrows scrunching slightly. "As in, _leave me alone_." As Arthur wiped himself off with one of his spare rags (he'd kept them around to clean his cubicle), Alfred's eyes remained fixed on him, looking half-worried, half-offended. Arthur glared. "In other words, get the _hell_ out of my cubicle."

Apparently whatever patience Alfred had had suddenly worn off with those words and he turned around and left, not even saying a thing. It's not like Arthur had cared about that guy though. As a matter of fact, he was too upset that he'd just lost his $14.00 tea from Teavana he treated himself to every so often to care.

Grumbling, Arthur realized there was no way he'd get by with just wiping himself off, so he grabbed his coat and headed to the bathroom. Naturally he didn't want people to think he pissed himself, so he used his coat as a blockade and wrapped it around himself as if he were going out for a cigarette or something. Everyone in the office knew he smoked and it was perfect.

Arthur practically barreled through the doors to the nearest bathroom then stomped over to the sinks. His coat dropped from his shoulders and hit the ground with a loud thump most likely from his large set of keys, his spare change, and his Zippo. He began scrubbing at his suit with a paper towel he'd moistened with soap and water. Damn it, this was all that Alfred guy's fault. He'd better be prepared to buy Arthur another tea.

Of course, having been so stressed out at this point, the Briton felt the undying need for a cigarette. He'd managed to quit a year back, but when Alfred came it was as if his addiction never left. Arthur sighed after getting out as much of the tea as possible. It wasn't like Alfred was a bad person, Arthur knew and acknowledged that much, he was just so… perfect. Too perfect.

An angry grunting noise startled him out of his thoughts. Arthur looked around as if the cops were out to get him. What in the hell? Who was in here and he didn't realize? The noise grew louder until Arthur realized that it wasn't directed at him. Arthur also quickly understood that it was _approaching_ the room not inside it.

He ran inside a stall with his coat dragging behind him just as the door to the bathroom itself opened up. As he locked the stall door, he felt his heart racing in his chest. Whoa, why was he so freaked out and anxious suddenly?

"Dude, I know," he could hear on the other side of the thin door separating him from the second person, "but I told you I can't. If I do that, I'll get fired. Look, I'll… I'll call you back, okay? No. I have to go. I told you I can't do that! Now _bye_!" It was more than obvious that familiar voice was talking to someone on a phone, and whoever it may be was loud enough that you could faintly hear them bickering even though the phone wasn't on speaker. The faint voice ceased with the press of a button.

Arthur peeked through the crevice between the door and stall wall. His eyes widened in surprise. So it was Alfred Jones, Arthur knew his voice sounded familiar. But Alfred, he… he sounded upset. That had probably been the reason Arthur couldn't place a face on the voice right away.

Arthur could see Alfred's face in the mirror and his surprise grew. Alfred's normally bright eyes were dark and gloomy. One hand was gripping his phone on the sink and the other was simply pressed there. His sunshine smile was nowhere in sight. Arthur somehow felt… happy. And yet, at the same time, he felt like someone had squeezed his heart until it burst.

Alfred swore and kicked a nearby stool so hard it went tumbling into a wall and Arthur's heart clenched further. "What the fuck is he thinking?" the darker-haired blond ground out, gripping his own hair with a troubled expression. "If I do anything like that, I'll be fired. I know he's struggling, but God. I'm not a damn miracle worker."

Arthur was glued in place, watching and listening to the other man. He simply couldn't look away. It was like an intense drama flick. "You know what? I'm sick of this anyway," the other continued, leaning back against the sink and looking into the mirror once more, "I'm always there for him. I'm always there for everyone. I'm practically a _hero_, for Christ's sake."

Alfred's glare was so harsh it seemed as if it could shatter the mirror and burn a hole right through the wall behind it. However, his hostile gaze began to soften into something twisted, like a puppy that had been shoved away for simply wanting attention. His blue eyes shifted in color from the lenses picking up light differently. And as he took off his glasses and placed them on the sink, those blue orbs became glassy. Alfred looked so disorientated almost immediately, and Arthur couldn't stop the clench in his chest from getting harder.

Arthur didn't know what the hell was wrong with him. He felt guilty for always being so cruel to the other man when he'd never felt anything even close to that for him ever before. That was when Arthur really felt he'd lost it though. He wanted to comfort him. _He_… wanted to comfort… _Alfred_. He hated that guy! Good that he was upset! Whatever!

…but not whatever. Arthur seriously felt like his whole world had been turned upset down just by watching the distress the younger man was going through. His thoughts of being crazy deepened.

A drop of water hit the sink and it wasn't from the faucet. Alfred's head was tipped downward; he hadn't been looking at himself in the mirror any longer. His shoulders were slumped in a defeated way and his body was lightly trembling. Another drop hit the sink. Arthur's heart took a nose-dive into the tiled floor. Another drop followed the second.

Alfred's phone suddenly began to ring. When he looked at it, Arthur could see the corner of his face covered in trails of damp skin. The American quickly tried to compose himself after he recognized the caller ID. He cleared his throat and picked up the cell. "Hello? Oh, hi! Yes, I've got that proposal you wanted. Mhm. I'm sure the children will love the website when it's done. Yes, right. Well, I've got a few more projects I'm working on right now, so I'll have to make an appointment with you for this week. Mhm. Sure. Great! Goodbye."

Alfred shoved his phone back into his pocket and wiped his face off. He glanced into the reflective glass with a blank expression at first, though he eventually smiled. It looked forced as if he were struggling to keep his cool. But regardless, the man knew he had work to do. Alfred put his glasses back on and cracked his neck before exiting the bathroom, the door closing gently behind him.

Arthur finally realized he was wrong about Alfred Jones. Out of their entire design firm, Alfred was definitely the bubbliest and most fun. But he was human too, and Arthur, who had always been so annoyed by him, felt his annoyance dissolve in mere moments.

By the time Arthur was back at his desk and working again, he'd almost completely forgotten how upset he'd been about his tea. He opened up the copies that he'd been working on prior to paperwork and stared blankly at them. Well, this was perfect. Now all he had on his mind was the torn-up expression he'd seen on Alfred's face. Arthur had thought he'd be overjoyed to find out Alfred was just like everyone else in that aspect, that things _did_ bother him too, but the Briton wasn't happy at all. He felt slightly at unease with himself when he realized he'd actually been wishing he hadn't seen Alfred that way.

Green eyes darted around the screen, looking but not seeing. He'd been thinking far too much about the images in his head to actually read anything on the computer monitor. Damn, he really didn't feel like editing anything right now. When was break? The ringing noise of a few alarms went off and Arthur practically jumped from his seat. Cigarette. He really needed a cigarette.

He grabbed his coat and went to rush outside when he had to quickly stop himself or risk slamming right into another person. Arthur glanced up into blue eyes. "Uh, Arthur," Alfred said slowly, looking remorseful, "I… was wondering if you wanted another drink?"

Arthur blinked in disbelief. He didn't really care much for his tea at this point, and if anything, he felt bad for the expression being directed at him. Instead of glaring or grumbling or saying anything rude, Arthur smiled at the younger man softly. "Sure." He buttoned up his coat and hid his pack of cigarettes. "But only if you'll let me come with you."

Alfred's face filled with a mix of confusion and surprise, which kind of looked cute in a way. Oh God, Arthur really had been losing it. "Um, yeah, dude, sure. If you really want to, that's cool with me." Arthur swore he saw a small smile perk up Alfred's cheeks before the other turned around and lead the Englishman along. It certainly wasn't faked this time.


End file.
